Burn
by Doctor Writer M.D
Summary: "Maybe we all deserve to crash and burn, maybe that is the least we can do." "We might. But you definitely don't." She was so in the clouds that she couldn't even figure out which one of them said that. "You're good, Granger."She shook her head. No, she wasn't. If she was good, she wouldn't be here. She stopped being good a long time ago, so long, she couldn't even remember when.


**I always wanted to write a fic where Hermione is morally dubious, yet not purposefully and with her still in Gryffindor and still for the most part being "Hermione". So here is my attempt.**

 **Warning: This fic might be considered a bit dark based on the later scene (personally I don't even know what is considered dark and not dark anymore). Just know that Hermione is not perfect in this fic (perhaps, she is depressed (I don't really know)), but there is smoking (which I don't condone in real life, but do what the hell you want with your life), and drinking of alcohol on school property, drugs, sex and unhealthy ways to live life (which again, I don't condone). But there is also acceptance and unexpected friendships, and maybe the main characters start to develop feelings for each other (maybe a little bit, although they won't admit it).**

* * *

"Maybe we all deserve to crash and burn, maybe that is the least we can do."

"We might. But you definitely don't." She was so in the clouds that she couldn't even figure out which one of them said that. "You're good, Granger."

She shook her head. No, she wasn't. If she was good, she wouldn't be here. She stopped being good a long time ago, and perhaps it was the drugs getting to her brain or maybe the guilt that she tried so hard to bury actually dying, but she finally started to forget when she stopped being good.

* * *

She started smoking two weeks after her mother was diagnosed with cancer. A few days after she had realized that perhaps she - or better yet, magic- couldn't fix her mother. After going to Diagon Alley, and going through as many books on magical medicine as she could find, she reached out to Professor McGonagall, who offered to take time out and travel to London to meet and speak with her.

Hermione stopped listening quite early on as McGonagall explained in quite a long detailed on why magic couldn't help her ailing Muggle mother. She just stared at nothing, as her professor's voice faded in the background.

Her mother was going to die and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing at all, except wait and be miserable or at least pretend that she would alright -they- her father and she would be alright.

Her father refused to leave her mother's bedside. Her father never asks her if there was anything she could do, with her magic, but she could see it in his eyes. She couldn't name it but it was the look that he gave her whenever she would go into the hospital room, a book on the top of magical medicine in hand.

She started smoking because it calmed her, and it made it easier for her to block out the pain. She knew it was stupid, that she was slowly killing herself, that her dad would be so angry with her if he found out, but it was the only thing that helped at that time.

So much so, that she sneaked a few packs of cigars into Hogwarts when September came and her father refused for her stay with him.

"I want to be here when she-" Hermione couldn't say it and instead looked down to the cold, white-tiled hospital floor. "-you know."

"I know. I know." He whispered back and he reached for her. "But it wouldn't be what she wants." They both looked over at the sleeping form of the third person in their small family.

So, she went. Although, she didn't want to. She didn't want to because she didn't want to have to pretend that everything was alright with her, but more than that she didn't want the pity of her friends, of her teachers, she didn't want to have to pity herself.

So, she did a good job at pretending. Or so she thought. She made it through breakfast and her classes and dinner and then study hall in the library but after that, she would sneak out to the girl bathroom on the 4th floor to have a smoke. Either that or cry herself to sleep.

She didn't expect to get caught, especially by the person who caught her. It was her fault; she needed a drag at a very inconvenient time and she has become so addicted to the calm that only a cigarette could give her that she found herself sneaking out of study hall, gripping her boxes of cigarettes in her robe pocket.

She didn't make it the 4th-floor girl's bathroom, instead, she snuck down a few corridors being very vigilant of onlookers until she reached the end of a very dimly lit and obscure hallway and quickly lit her cigar with a spell.

She breathed in and then out, sinking against the wall as the sense of euphoria hit her. She needed this. So, much so that the guilt started to melt away. Like it was being washed away with every inhalation.

It wasn't until she heard footsteps towards her that she dropped the cigarette behind her legs, but it was apparently not fast enough because there he was eyes squinting in the dark. "Granger?"

"Nott." She replied, standing up straighter and pushing her hands into her robe pocket. "What are you doing here?"

It was only a second after she said it that she realized how stupid of a question it was. She knew what he was doing here.

"Rounds." He confirmed her assumption.

She was more than elated when he didn't reask the question. "Right."

She nodded. "I'll be going." Her feet were fast in carrying her away as she left him there.

* * *

She kept replaying the scene in her mind. Of her her dropping the cigarette, of his eyes peering at her in the dark. Of her walking away. Was she suspicious?

She was, but he did he suspect her. She spent most of the next day, on edge, scared that she might be called up by Professor McGonagall, so much so, that she found herself arguing in her mind during most of her class.

If he suspected her, if he saw the cigarette before, or even after she left, he wouldn't smoke her out.

He's Slytherin. She's Gryffindor. Although, they never had any run in or problems before it was no secret about his family's view especially about Muggle-borns.

But he's a Slytherin. He would be more clever than to just go rat her out to the Head Prefects or Head of Houses.

He would more than likely use it to manipulative her.

Oh, God, that thought worried her even more.

"Miss Granger!"

She suddenly jolted from her seat, hands knocking over the vial of ink on her notes in the process.

A few giggles and chuckles came from around the room, but her eyes were on Snape who was now glaring at her from the front of the room.

"Would you so kindly please grace us with your attention, and answer my question?" Snape snapped the last part through his teeth.

Hermione was caught in the deer light, and her professor and peers alike peered down on her. She didn't know what he was asking, her mind had been gone for the last ten minutes.

"I don't know. " She admitted in a small voice, only a few around the room heard her.

Like Harry and Ron, who were now staring across at their friend with concern clear in their eyes.

"What was that?" Snape pressed.

He was doing this on purpose. She could see it in his face; he was enjoying this, embarrassing her. He hardly called on her when she was the only one in the class with her hand raised, but now that he happened to catch her in a bad moment, he was using it against her.

"I don't know." She spoke louder.

The room was silent, and Hermione did her best to not look at any faces but when she did she could see faces of concern, faces of mild surprise and a few smirks, including Snapes.

"Do I happen to bore you. Miss Granger?"

"No, sir."

"Then why can't you answer my question?"

"I don't know the answer, sir." Some of the oversplit ink was now dripping on her skirt, but she made do aims to move.

"Well, who would have thought," Snape concluded, looking down to flip the page of the textbook.

"Fuck you." Hermione, couldn't help saying that phrase under her breath. It was meant to be a whisper only to herself, a quiet phrase of rebellion, but the silence in the room lingered along with the attention on her, and a few gasps were the evidence that her quiet rebellion wasn't so quiet.

Snape looked up from the textbook, particularly to students who gasps and now had full on surprised looks on their faces, who was staring straight at her.

The whispers started around the room.

Snape looked at her. "Do you suddenly have an answer for us, Miss Granger?"

Hermione thought about repeating the phrase louder but thought against it, she did, however, pull her chair back, the sound of the feet against the stone floor loud and irritating. Shutting her textbook, and grabbing her bag, she turned and walk from the room. However, not before she noticed the smirk on Nott's face. It was kind of hard to miss.

* * *

She was called to Professor McGonagall's office. Snape was there too.

Apparently, Professor McGonagall told Snape about her mother and attributed her 'outrageous behavior' due to the sorrow and anger of losing a parent. However, it wasn't enough to let her go unpunished. A week's detention was her punishment.

Hermione arrived at Snape's office at 6 p.m sharp and left at 8. Snape hardly said anything to her just giving her orders when she came in and told her to leave at eight as if she would make the decision to stay longer than she was required.

She would stop in a dark nook on her way back to the Tower to have a smoke, hoping that none of her friends were in the common room when she entered.

Her schedule, each night went perfectly until Thursday when on her way back from her smoke, she encountered him. She decided that it would be best to ignore her childhood enemy, since she no doubts smelled like smoke and knew that if Nott didn't rat her out for smoking, Malfoy definitely would.

He spoke first. "Didn't know you had balls, Granger?" He said as their path grew closer, "If I didn't hate you so much, I would have started respecting you a little bit."

Ignore him. Hermione bit her tongue and walked past him. She continued walking at a fast pace but didn't miss that he had stopped in the corridor, head turned slightly, looking over his shoulder.

* * *

She was running out of cigarettes of the five packs she had in September, only two were left, and winter break was a far way ahead.

The extent of her worry was a clear sign of her addiction. Since school started, she smoked a cigarette a day; if it was a bad day, she would sometimes smoke two.

The day after she smoked her last cigarette, she was on edge. She was angry. She wanted to cry. She wanted to vomit. Her emotions were out of control and she had no couch to lead on. That was kinda the point. They were all gone. She smoked them all and she was left to face everything that she tried to bury without them. It sucked.

Worst of all, she was paranoid, or maybe not since she was sure that she caught Nott staring at her at breakfast and then at dinner.

She felt that she was suffocating, so much so, that instead of going to the library to study after dinner, she went to the Astronomy Tower in hopes that the fresh air will help.

But there was somebody already there, and she didn't recognize him until he turned around, but she did catch the cigarette butt he dropped over the balcony.

"Nott?"

"Granger."

She looked over the balcony. She should probably leave. "I didn't know you smoked."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Granger."

She was about to leave, but he pulled out a box of cigars.

It's been too long since she had one and a part of her wanted to ask, but her pride or perhaps her logic held her back.

Hence, it surprised her when he took out one and lightly extend it to her.

"I don't smoke." She shook her head.

He scoffed. "Sure, Granger."

By the look on his face, it was clear that he knew that she was lying. That he saw her that night. She had nothing more to lose, right?

She stepped forward, quickly taking the cigar from his outstretched hand.

This was probably a bad idea but she needed it and as she light up and took her first draw, she had no regrets.

She looked at the cigar as she blew out; at the small golden cursive stamp on the side of it. These were different than her usual cigars; in exchange quantity, she bought the cheapest cigarettes and she never really thought about cigarette quality before now but she could tell the difference.

These were so much better and no doubt more expensive.

She was in her own head when she saw Nott hand appear in front of her. Confusion was replaced with surprise as she realized that he was asking her back for the cigar. Surprise, because the action of him wanting to share a cigar with her seems a bit out of characters.

Again, they never had any problems before but there was no secret about his family and his friends.

"You caused me to drop half of a good cigar down there." He nodded towards the edge of the balcony.

She considered, but replied, "If you can even afford these, then wasting half a cigar is nothing."

She looked away but from the corner of her eyes, she could see his slight smile, and then him reaching into his pants pocket.

He took another cigar from the box.

They smoked in silence, not saying anything to each other, not that there was anything to say.

She half expected him to prod to at least ask 'when since she started to smoke' or even 'why' but he never did. He didn't even look at her, which was nice.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there, but eventually Nott declared, "I'm going to go."

She turned to look at him as a sign of acknowledgment but instead her eyes caught the small green and white box laying on the edge of the balcony, she reached over and started to call out but he was already out of sight.

She opened the box and it was mostly empty, except for six full cigars.

She could give him back or maybe not, especially if he didn't ask.

* * *

 **Reviews help me to write down my thoughts faster, so...**


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